


Crazy

by shuckyou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Crazy Stiles, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Heath, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Violence, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-14 03:59:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shuckyou/pseuds/shuckyou
Summary: “Stiles, buddy, are you just going to stand and looked at it all day?” His Dad asked impatiently from the doorway, and no. He wasn’t. His eyes had had enough of eyeing up the building, and it was horrible. The windows were barred (Stiles suspected it was so nothing got in at night time, but neither is Dad or Allison confirmed that) and it was littered in spidery cobwebs that made him shiver because he didn’t like spiders. The old wooden sign that had been perched above the doorway was ratty and flaking with old dried paint. It now only read ‘B acon Hills Me tal Hospital’. And that was rather odd.OrStiles is admitted to a mental hospital after one too many incidents, and needs to learn how to survive with a pack of psychopaths who may or may not want his head on a stick, but most importantly, he has to come to terms with his feelings for the gorgeous but absolutely insane Derek Hale.OrI seriously have no idea what I was on when I thought of this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. 
> 
> So I'm going to state it at the beginning because I feel like more people will read it here, but I have a few things I want to say about this story because it's a bit of a mess right now. 
> 
> First thing's first; I don't want anyone to feel 'triggered' or such by this story and it is not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable, so if you're easily offended, or find this topic quite sensitive, this probably isn't the fic for you! 
> 
> If you've made it past that, and are joining me on the slightly messed up journey that is this story, then welcome! I hope you enjoy! Though my next point is: I am not sure whether or not I will continue this story, so based on reactions and how people like it (or not, as I said, it might not be everyone's taste) then I'll decide if I want to keep going. 
> 
> Finally, I really appreciate comments and definitely constructive criticism, so please feel free to tell me what you liked, what you didn't and what you would like to happen in the future! 
> 
> I hope you like it!

He liked fire. 

It was pretty, the way the flames licked up the edge of buildings and lit the sky a beautiful orange that could only really be accomplished by a real flame. Stiles thought it was a shame that fire was so destructive, because he really enjoyed watching it. 

Like right now, the shining red bonnet of Gilda’s car was on fire, and while the blame did rest a little in his hands, it wasn’t completely his fault, because it was Allison’s idea to start playing with Dad’s old lighter in the first place. 

He hoped Gilda wasn’t home, because he knew she liked her car and she had an extremely bad temper that he did not want to be on the receiving end of (he found this out the hard way after he and Allison had spent their afternoon stealing Gilda’s apples from her back garden, only to be caught, screamed at for what felt like longer than the 5 minutes Gilda claimed it was, and sent back across the road to face his dad who was equally as angry).

It turned out Gilda was home. And she wasn’t a happy bunny. 

Stiles wanted to giggle as she came hobbling out of her house, curly hair flying behind her and her eyes panicked and enraged. 

After promptly realising there was nothing she could do for her car, Gilda turned to Stiles, fixing him with an infuriated expression that would send bears running back to their mothers. She let out an animalistic growl, and pounced on him, grabbing his shirt collar and dragging him back to his house while Allison merely tittered as she watched them. 

He probably would’ve been able to fend her off if she wasn’t such a manly brute of a woman. She was far taller than him, and towered over him with a thunderous expression that sent him running for the hills, and her broad, muscled body put his lanky frame to shame. 

Without uttering single word in his direction, Gilda dragged him by the neck back to his own house, cursing under her breath as she stomped up the steps and rapped on the door with loud thumps. She glowered at him, and he swallowed nervously, watching as Allison silently sneered at him from around the side of his house. 

When the door opened, Stiles had the decency to look down to the floor in shame because he didn’t like hurting his Dad, and his Dad told him that every time Stiles pulled a stunt like this it made his Dad sad. 

“YOUR SON SET FIRE TO MY CAR!” Gilda screeched, practically throwing Stiles into the house in her rage. “LOOK AT IT! LOOK AT THE STATE OF MY CAR! HE IS SPAWN OF THE DEVIL I TELL YOU. THE DEVIL!” 

“Gilda-” his dad attempted to calm the raging woman in front of him. “Gilda, please. You’re causing a scene.” 

“A SCENE? YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT CAUSING A SCENE? WHEN YOUR BLOODY USELESS SON OF YOURS SET FIRE TO MY CAR? I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE ANGRY!” She yelled, her face turning a brilliant shade of crimson as she spoke that reminded Stiles of a cherry. 

“Gilda I will-”

“NO! I WILL NOT HAVE IT. NOT ANYMORE. YOUR CHILD HAS TERRORISED ME FOR 17 YEARS. I WILL NOT PUT UP WITH IT. HE’S CRAZY. ABSOLTELY INSANE. I WANT HIM GONE. SEND HIM TO A HOSPITAL. GET HIM WHERE HE BELONGS BEFORE I CALL THE POLICE BECAUSE I AM WELL WITHIN MY RIGHTS TO-” 

“Okay. I’ll speak to him.” His Dad nodded curtly, before closing the door and sighing heavily. He turned to Stiles expectantly. 

“Well? Care to explain to me why you set our neighbour’s care on fire?” 

Stiles stayed silent, because he didn’t like it when his Dad was angry at him, it made him upset. Instead, he settled for a small shake of his head. 

His Dad sighed again, anger evaporating as reality sunk in. “Stiles…” He started. Stiles immediately felt guilty, because this was his Dad’s ‘I really don’t know what to do with you anymore’ voice and it meant that his Dad was very upset with him. 

“Stiles, I think you should go somewhere.” 

“You mean… leave?” His voice sounded small and questioning, like a child’s if they were unsure. It made him sound weak, he thought. 

“Only for a little bit,” His dad promised hastily. “I think we need to get you some help.”

“I don’t think I need help…” Stiles said quietly, frowning at the floor as if it would explain to him why his Dad was suggesting such ludicrous ideas. 

“It’ll be good for you son. You’ll make some friends. And then you can come back home again.” His Dad explained.

“I don’t think I can Dad. Allison wouldn’t want me to go.” Stiles said, nodding towards his friend who was staring into his window sadly shaking her head. “I like it here. Allison is my friend.” 

His Dad seemed to break down a little. His face crumbling and revealing the true exhaustion that lay beneath. He rubbed a weary hand over his face and shuffled on his feet for a moment. 

“Stiles you have to. I’m sorry, but I’m insisting. Allison can go with you, but you have to leave. I can’t… You can’t stay.” His dad finished lamely. “Now go and back a back. Take some clothes, pyjamas, some of your favourite things. We’re leaving today.” 

Stiles couldn’t bring himself to smile. 

His Dad was sending him away. 

His Dad didn’t want to see him for a while. 

He couldn’t even smile as Gilda’s car exploded outside. 

…

“Stiles, I told you we should’ve stayed.” Allison whined, skipping along beside him like am obedient little dog. “This place sucks.” 

While Stiles knew she was right, because staring at the dilapidated red brick building didn’t settle the unease in his stomach, he shook his head. “No Allison. We have to. Dad said so.” 

“Adults aren’t the boss of me.” Allison snapped, glaring at him with her warm brown eyes. “I can do what I want. I’m only here because I don’t want you to go alone.” 

Stiles’ heart fluttered in his chest, and a small smile tugged the corners of his lips. “That’s nice of you.” He told her and she shrugged. Stiles thought Allison was funny sometimes because she didn’t speak to anyone. She only spoke to him, and while it made him feel special, it was a bit confusing because Stiles didn’t understand how she could keep quiet around other people. 

“Stiles, buddy, are you just going to stand and looked at it all day?” His Dad asked impatiently from the doorway, and no. He wasn’t. His eyes had had enough of eyeing up the building, and it was horrible. The windows were barred (Stiles suspected it was so nothing got in at night time, but neither is Dad or Allison confirmed that) and it was littered in spidery cobwebs that made him shiver because he didn’t like spiders. The old wooden sign that had been perched above the doorway was ratty and flaking with old dried paint. It now only read ‘B acon Hills Me tal Hospital’. And that was rather odd. 

So he trudged in behind his Dad, dragging his favourite backpack behind him and ignoring Allison as she made funny faces at him to try and cheer him up. 

“Hello, how can I help you?” Stiles looked up at the lady at the desk, watching as her eyes scanned over him, her nose scrunching up ever so slightly in disgust, before returning to her Dad where her face brightened. 

Rude. 

“It’s my son…” Stiles tried to block out the conversation, because he didn’t want to hear his Dad say mean things about him, and he also didn’t like how the lady’s eyelashes kept fluttering because it reminded him of movies he and Allison watched and that was how the girls tried to kiss the men. And he didn’t want to see his Dad kissing her because she didn’t seem like a nice person. 

“Stiles,” 

He was pulled out of his trance when his Dad called his name. He slowly, and begrudgingly, shuffled forwards to meet him, and stared up at the lady who seemed to be analysing him with a particularly nasty stare. 

“This is Valerie, she’ll take you to a room where you can unpack your stuff, alright? I have to leave now, but if you really don’t like it here, call me and we’ll look at other options. Alright kiddo?” His Dad asked, and Stiles nodded numbly. 

“I love you Dad.” 

“Love you too.” 

And with that, Valerie whisked him away, through a pair of locked doors that Allison only just managed to squeeze through before they slammed shut again. 

“Are the people here nice?” Stiles asked. 

“Depends who you’re friends with I suppose. And if you say the right things.” She responded vaguely, grabbing his arm and tugging him along. 

Stiles didn’t like her answer. 

“Will they like me?” 

“I don’t know kid.” 

“What about Allison?” 

“Who the hell is Allison?” 

“My friend.” 

“Oh, well you won’t be seeing your friend for a while.” 

At that, Stiles brow furrowed with confusion, his eyebrows knitting together, because Allison was right next to him a minute ago, and when he turned to point her out, she was gone. 

She would probably come back later, Stiles suspected. He could introduce her then. 

Valerie showed him his bedroom, and told him that he would be sharing with a boy named Scott who was ‘a complete psycho but could be nice’. 

“Psycho isn’t a nice word.” 

She didn’t reply, but left him alone in the dark room to unpack what little belongings he had taken with him. 

His bed was smaller than the one at home, and it didn’t look at all comfortable, though Stiles didn’t really mind because he didn’t like to sleep much at home anyway. And if he did, it was nice to sleep outside. 

He found a place for all of his things, emptying his clothes into a wardrobe drawer, and putting his notebook and pen on top of his bedside table. He sighed contently when it was all finished, and went to throw his bag under the bed, when he noticed a dark figure curled up underneath the end of his bed. 

“Hello?” 

A pair of blue eyes flashed from their hiding spot, they were cold and icy and almost inhumane.

“I’m Stiles. Who are you?” 

The person crawled out from their hiding spot startling him and causing him to jump back in surprise. 

It was a girl. 

She stared at him, almost as if she was eyeing him up to see if he would be dinner-worthy, before she purred and curled herself around his legs. Her dark hair was wild, and hung past her shoulders in a tangled mess. 

She growled when he tried to move, so h just stood there, albeit a little awkwardly, with a person wrapped around his legs. 

When the door burst open, the girl hissed, bearing her teeth and snarling as boy entered.

“It’s okay Malia. It’s me, Scott.” The boy- Scott- reminded, closing the door gently behind him. Malia seemed to calm slightly at this, and returned to purring and circling round Stiles’ legs. 

“Hi!” Scott said brightly, his crooked jaw stretched in a toothy grin that Stiles couldn’t help but return. His hair sat in a messy flop on his head, and Stiles wondered if anyone here actually had a hairbrush. 

“I’m Stiles.” Stiles stuck his hand out, because that’s what his Dad did when he met new people, but Scott laughed and pulled him in for a hug, squeezing around his arms. 

“Cool. I’m Scott. I’m your roommate!”

“That’s good. You seem nice.” Stiles commented, and Scott only grinned wider. 

“Thanks. So do you.” Scott said, and there was a moment of silence where neither one of them was really sure what to do, until Scott spoke up. “That’s Malia. She’s a coyote. She generally quite friendly so you don’t need to worry. I think she likes you too.” 

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the bundle of… Malia crouching at his feet. She stared up at him with her blue eyes, blinking innocently. He smiled at her and pet her head, which only elicited a quiet snarl. 

“She really likes you. She only lets Lydia pet her.” 

“Cool.” 

Stiles eyes followed her as she slunk out of their room scratching at the carpet as leaving claw marks as she went. 

“Do you want to get dinner with me? Tonight is macaroni night and I love macaroni.” 

“You mean… like a date?” Stiles’ eyebrows folded in on themselves, staring at Scott almost disbelievingly because he didn’t really like Scott that way. 

“No silly, I don’t like you like that.” 

“Oh. Good. Me neither.” Stiles huffed out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in. He was glad his first and only real friend here (apart from Allison and maybe Malia) didn’t fancy him, because in all the movies he and Allison watched, the romantic couples always argued. 

“Now come on. Let’s go and get some food. I’m starving.” 

Stiles wouldn’t say no to that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets some of Scott's friends as he struggled through life at the hospital. After an interesting encounter with Jackson, Stiles runs off and straight into Derek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the amazing response to my last chapter, I never expected so many people to want to read this story and I'm glad you want me to continue it!!! It makes me so happy that people enjoy reading my content, and I will try my best to post regularly and with some decent quality. 
> 
> I'm still working out quite a bit of the plot, so I'm sorry if the first few chapters are quite slow-progressing, but hopefully there should be a lot more action in the chapters to come. I have some exiting thing planned for Stiles! 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy chapter two!!!

Stiles found out why Scott liked the macaroni so much. 

It was nearing 7 pm and Allison still hadn’t returned, sending Stiles into a pathetic, lonely and quite frankly, miserable mess. 

Scott had all but dragged him down the stairs, skipping with excitement at his new found friend. The dining hall was dirty, a pale white colour that had been stained with years of age and many food fights. Stiles found himself in awe at the amount of people who were seated on plush cushions on the floor, nibbling on pieces of cheesy pasta and various other things. 

Scott pushed him forwards, eager to get into the queue for his own dinner, and the smell of the hot macaroni made Stiles’ own mouth water with desire. 

They thanked Parrish, the chef, and Scott was already grabbing at Stiles and leading him through the swarms of seated people, and all Stiles could think about was that Allison was missing. She had left him alone to deal with all these people, and it was very frightening. 

“I’ll show you my friends.” Scott babbled, though noticing the panicked look on Stiles’ face, he stopped. “Are you okay? You don’t have to meet them? I just thought you might like to…” Scott’s lower lip wobbled, and Stiles though he was going to cry. He didn’t want Scott to cry. 

“Please don’t cry.” He begged as Scott sniffled eyes glassy and lips trembling. “I’d like to meet your friends.” 

Scott immediately brightened up, returning to his bubbly, usual self again within no time. “Cool! I hope they like you because I like you.” 

Stiles just nodded, pressing his lips together to supress the worry that was building up in the pit of his stomach. 

Where was Allison? She should be here now…

“I’m here you dummy,” 

Stiles’ head snapped round and he was greeted by the sight of his best friend, grinning at him like he had won a Nobel prize. She flashed her sparkling white teeth at him, showing off her cute little cheek dimples that Stiles told her were useful for getting people to do what she was because they do really make her look adorably young. 

“Allison, you shouldn’t have left.” Stiles told her seriously, and Scott glanced at him from the corner of his eye, raising one hairy eyebrow. 

“Who’s Allison?” He asked curiously, as they sat down with a group of people Scott seemed to recognise, because he smiled at them all and seemed to bristle at all the sudden attention. 

Stiles shrugged, and brought a large mouthful of steaming macaroni to his lips, feeling his mouth water with excitement. It was delicious. Cheesy sauce dribbled down his lips and chin and he threw his head back with a small moan. 

“Allison’s my best friend.” Stiles answered, grinning to himself as he took another huge scoop of macaroni. Out of the corner of his eyes, Allison grimaced, obviously disgusted, and rolled her eyes at his antics. 

“Cool.” Scott said, “Can I meet her?” 

“I don’t know.” Stiles admitted honestly. And he really didn’t. Allison had the tendency to be particularly picky when it came to meeting his friends. Basically, she didn’t. The only person that really met Allison was Stiles’ mom, and well, she was dead now, so she didn’t count. 

“Oh.” Scott was silent for a moment, settling into the awkward tension that radiated from the two of them. He perked up a bit when a girl to his left nudged him in the side with her elbow, staring at him, and then at Stiles, waiting for an introduction. “Oh! Stiles, these are my friends.” 

“I’m not your friend.” Stiles glanced at a boy sitting directly opposite to him who was sporting a very ugly sneer on his angular face. His blonde hair was tousled in a way that Stile only thought could be achieved in movies. He noticed Stiles staring at him, and the victim of the glare shifted, now focusing on Stiles who shuffled uncomfortably and found a sudden interest in his now empty macaroni plate. 

“Shut up Jackson, you told me you were after we played lacrosse outside yesterday.” Scott pouted. 

“If you thought our game last night was anything compared to real lacrosse, you have some learning to do McCall.” The blonde boy, Stiles assumed Jackson, snorted. 

Stiles hardly noticed when Malia slunk over to him and lapped at the sauce on his chin, mewling softly against his jaw. He was too engrossed in the banter between Scott and Jackson. He didn’t think he liked Jackson.

He twitched on the pillow, still feeling uncomfortable around the group of people he didn’t know. Scott seemed to have forgotten about him while he was yapping to his friends. 

“Scott. Stop arguing with Jackson and introduce us to your friend.” A pretty blonde girl snapped, flashing a smile at Stiles and batting her eyelashes playfully. 

“Sorry. This is Stiles. He’s my roommate. He’s cool, don’t you think?” Scott babbled, and then proceeded to forget about him again, returning to sticking his tongue out at Jackson. 

Stiles didn’t like the feeling of eyes on him. He was being watched, scrutinised. And their stares were hot, itchy and burned his skin. He scratched anxiously at the skin on his neck, clawing at it until it was red raw and he could feel droplets of blood seep out of the tiny cuts. 

“Woah. Kid, stop.” The blonde girl instructed. She was very bossy, Stiles thought. “You’re hurting myself.” 

“I don’t like it when you stare at me.” He told her, bringing his hand down to rest in his lap, still twitching to draw blood. 

“Okay…” Her forehead creased, folding the skin to form confused little lines above her eyebrows as she stared at him as if she was trying to figure out what planet he had come from. 

“What’s your name?” Stiles asked, feeling better as there were no longer several stares focused on him. 

“I’m Erica.” She smiled, offering another winning smile. Stiles thought she kind of looked like a princess, her blonde curls tumbling down one shoulder and tucking behind her ear. Long eyelashes hooded mysterious dark eyes which sparkled with something suspiciously like danger. 

 

“You look a bit like a princess.” Stiles commented, voicing his thoughts. He was mildly taken aback when she threw her head back and barked out a laugh. 

“You’re sweet. Thanks.” She told him as he felt red creep into his cheeks. 

“Can we go outside? Scott said he played outside yesterday. I want to play outside.” Stiles whined, eyeing the window inquisitively and restraining himself from running over to it to try and escape. 

“Sorry kid, we’re not allowed out at night.” 

Another boy sniffed, “Yeah but I bet if you ask Derek nicely he would take you.” 

Erica laughed again, “Shut up Isaac,” She said before turning to Stiles. “Don’t listen to them. Derek’s an ass, he would probably break you.” 

“I’m stronger than I look.” Stiles objected with a scowl. 

“Yeah. Cute.” The other boy, Isaac commented before going back to his meal. Stiles only glared daggers at the back of his head. Maybe if he tried hard enough, Isaac’s hair would set on fire. Burn away those pretty golden curls. Like lasers. Or Gilda’s car. 

“I am.” He argued, still glowering in Isaac’s direction. 

“You pissed off the pretty kid Isaac. Boy are you in trouble, just look at those muscles.” Jackson snipped. 

“I don’t like you.” Stiles snapped, and pushed himself up off the floor with force. He grabbed the pillow, liking the weight it put in his hand, and hurled it in Jackson’s direction, aiming for his ugly arrogant face. It hit the target with a thud, and fell to the ground, landing in Jackson’s dinner and splattering it all over the other boy. 

Before another word could be uttered, though everyone was stunned into silence by Stiles’ act, Stiles stalked off in the direction off the door, purposefully ignoring Jackson’s hostile comments. 

The hallways seemed eerily quiet despite only having left the hall, though as the door clanged behind him, Stiles shivered and drew his hooding closer to his body, wishing he had asked Scott to come with him for directions. 

“Stiles, you’re silly. They’re all going to hate you for being mean to their friend…” Allison told him. He startled, eyes wide and frantic as he turned to her, sending her a meaningful glare as he calmed his racing heart. 

“Allison, you shouldn’t jump up on people like that. It’s mean and disrespectful. What if I wanted to be alone?” He snapped, turning away from her again and ignoring her. 

“Oh shut up, you hate being alone. That’s why you have me.” She told him. “Hey, it’s like I know you better than you know yourself.” 

“Stop it.” 

“Why are you so moody? You know what? Maybe I don’t want to be here anyway. I’ll just leave then.” 

Stiles found himself alone, glaring at the spot where Allison had been previously. He rolled his eyes, because he wasn’t scared, okay? He just preferred to have some company when-

Oof. 

“Ouch.” He muttered from his position on the floor, rubbing his sore elbow to sooth the ache that had grown there. Did he just walk into a wall? 

“No. You didn’t you idiot.” 

Stiles looked up and his eyes widened because holy hell. 

What a beautiful creature. 

“Am I dreaming?” He asked, in awe of the prettiness of this person. He stood up, reaching out a curious hand to touch the glorious, prickly stubble that grew on the man’s chin. Definitely not a wall. Better than a wall. Way better than a wall. 

“No. Get out of my way.” His hand was shoved away, though he didn’t even register the pain in his arm anymore. 

“You are so beautiful.” Stiles gaped, and he was not ashamed to be blushing right now because not a lot of people had the opportunity to touch gods. 

“And you’re a fucking weirdo. Get out of my way.” 

“You’re supposed to say please.” Stiles mentioned, but promptly shut his mouth at the harsh glare he received. 

“Move, kid.” 

“I’m not a kid. I’m 17 years old.” 

“Yeah, you’re still a kid.” The man snapped. 

“You have a very frowny face. Did anyone tell you? It’s a shame because it would be really gorgeous if you smiled.” 

“You know what else would be a shame? If you were found dead in the middle of this hallway tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, I suppose that would be a bit of a buzzkill.” Stiles frowned. “Ha, buzzkill. Get it?” 

The glare on the other man’s face only intensified, and Stiles didn’t think that would even be possible. 

“I said, move.” 

“My name is Stiles. I’m new.” 

“Yeah, I don’t care.” The other guy growled. He sighed, the air puffing out of his nose like smoke from a steam train, and instead, chose to push past Stiles. 

“Hey, wait! What’s your name?” Stiles asked, following him. He increased him pace, settling at a slow jog, until he fell into step with the beautiful man. 

“None of your concern. Stop following me.” 

“Please tell me.” 

“No.” 

“Please.” 

“No.” 

“But please?” 

The older man stopped, and Stiles could see the murderous look in his eyes, as if this conversation actually pained him. 

“I’m Derek.” 

Stiles beamed, “Oh! A boy called Isaac, or I think that was his name… Well, he said you could take me outside if I asked nicely. I want to go outside but Erica said I’m not allowed. Erica also told me you’d break me. Please don’t break me. You won’t will you?” Stiles asked hopefully, his eyes shining as he looked up at Derek with an expression that could only be described as a cute puppy face. 

Derek seemed to consider the idea, and Stiles was momentarily offended. He was not breakable. He would show them. Though Derek finally just rolled his eyes, snapping, “no.” 

“Thank you!” Stiles threw his hands around Derek, squeezing the scary tower of muscle and broody-ness. He felt Derek tense muscles contracting and firming (okay, how was that possible?) and he tightened his hold. 

“Get off me. God you’re like a fucking barnacle.” 

“Do they hug people too?” 

“They hug whales.” 

“Cool. I like whales. Does that make you a whale? I like you too you know.” 

“I don’t like you.” 

Stiles pulled back, slightly hurt. “Really?” Derek only rolled his eyes again, which managed to convince Stiles he was joking. 

Feeling a sudden rush of determination, Stiles glared, “I’ll get you to like me. We’re going to be friends. Though I think I might like you a bit too much. That’s okay though, I can work on that.” 

“Right. Now leave me alone.” Derek snapped. He paused for a minute. “Please?” 

Stiles grinned and nodded as Derek walked off. 

What a nice bottom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? 
> 
> Let me know who your favourite and least favourite character is at the moment and be sure to keep an eye out for the next chapter! 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! 
> 
> I'm really sorry about the wait, I have just been super busy right now and completely put off writing this chapter, but I've finally managed, and I'm glad it's done. 
> 
> I've basically planned out the entire story (par a few details) and I'm really excited to continue writing this, so if you're all still interested, then please let me know so I can keep writing! I'm more than grateful at all of you who had supported this story so far! I never expected so many people to enjoy my work! Especially this odd story, so thank you!! 
> 
> I also wanted to mention that I return to school on Tuesday, so I will be really, really busy again, but I'm hoping to find time to sit down and write, but it may mean that there will be a longer wait for chapter. I'm trying to get as much of it written before I go back, but at the moment, it's just not happening and I'm not writing in advance. I hope you'll manage to bear with me as I get back to school. 
> 
> So if anyone is still reading these notes (kudos to you because I've rambled on for quite a bit) then thank you for putting up with me, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!!!

As Stiles retreated to his bedroom, he couldn’t get his mind to stop wondering about Derek. Every time he closed his eyes, he was in front of Derek. A very shirtless Derek. Who was insanely pretty. 

“You’re in love!” Allison teased, poking her tongue out between her teeth and flashing him a cheesy dimpled smile. 

“Am not.” He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly. They reached the door to his room and opened it. Allison snuck through beside him, sprawling out on Scott’s bed. 

Stiles flopped down on his own, careful not to crush a sleeping Malia who was curled up in the corner end of his bed mewling contently. Stiles smiled softly at her, liking the way her presence made him feel safe. 

“You are too. Don’t deny it Stilinski. You love him.” 

“I don’t love him.” Stiles protested, the words playing quietly on his lips. “I’m just… interested.” 

“Yeah. In his lips.” Allison rolled her eyes, sitting up with her back against the wall as she braided her fluffy hair. 

“Allison!” He shrieked. “Stop it! I am not. I’m going to bed. Leave me alone.” With that, he narrowed his eyes at her menacingly, only for her to return the glare, and rolled over on his side, disregarding the bedsheets and kicking off his shoes. 

He felt his eyes drifting shut, succumbing to the darkness of sleep when Allison whispered in his ear. 

“You just need to admit it.”

…

The next morning, Stiles awoke to a warm tongue licking up his bare arm. 

“What?” He slurred, blinking open his sleep dazed eyes and staring at the mop of brown hair at his side. 

“Malia?” He asked tiredly. She blinked up at him innocently, nuzzling into his neck before returning to tickle his forearm with little licks. It caused goose bumps to raise on his arm. 

“Malia, stop,” He whined. “It’s cold.” 

She growled softly at him, but backed down and hopped off the bed on all fours before tucking up in a ball at the side of his bed. 

Stiles frowned. “Uh. Good. Good… coyote…” 

She hummed in response, showing her acknowledgement to his words but did not raise her head. 

Stiles shivered against the cold air of the morning, and looked over at Scott’s bed, eyebrows furrowing in confusion when he noticed the lack of Scott. 

“I think he’s getting breakfast.” Allison commented, picking at her nails from the corner of the room. 

“Oh.” Stiles responded, purposefully not looking at her. 

“You know, I don’t think he even slept last night.” She said, pushing herself off the wall and edging towards him. “You should ask him about that.” 

“Allison that’s private.” 

“So? I think you should ask him.” She told him, eyes sparkling maliciously. 

“Allison stop it. You’re being really mean right now and I don’t like it. I don’t like you.” He snapped, and Allison’s dangerous smirk turned sour. She glowered at him and stomped towards him threateningly. 

“Stiles I’m your best friend. I know what’s best for you. Why aren’t you doing what I’m telling you to?” She seethed. 

“Because you aren’t the boss of me. Stop being so mean Allison. Just go away. I never want to speak to you again!” He screamed, turning away from her in anger. She glared at his back, eyes burning holes through cloth and skin and bone, before she left. 

“Fine.” She muttered. 

Stiles peeked around, glancing at the spot where she had vanished. She was gone. He felt a little guilty, and swallowed the lump in his throat, before pushing down all his emotions. It wasn’t his fault. She was being annoying. She was being nasty.

The door burst open, and Scott bound in, his eyes gleaming like a young puppy. 

“Hey!” The other boy exclaimed, leaving the door ajar. 

“Hi Scott.” Stiles exclaimed, meeting his friend at the door. Malia stretched from her position on the floor, extending her long limbs and arching her back, imitating that of a cat. She trotted over to them and circled their legs. 

“Come on. You need to get breakfast before they clean it all up and we go outside.” Scott rambled excitedly. 

“We’re going outside?” Stiles asked, grinning. 

“Yeah! Now come on!” Scott grabbed his arm and dragged him out the room, Malia following obediently. 

Scott hauled him through the dull hallways and into the dining room. There was hardly anyone in sight, only a few people occupying the cushions at the far end of the small hall. Scott hurriedly grabbed a plate of pancakes, drizzled on some maple syrup, yelping when the liquid spilled over the plate and on to his hand. 

“Here. Eat.” Scott ordered. He pulled them both down to sit on some cushions and watched Stiles intently as the other boy shovelled pancakes in his mouth, ignoring the trails of syrup that drizzled down his chin. 

He finished quickly, pushing away Malia’s face as she tried to lap up the dribbles of maple syrup, and instead he wiped away the remains of pancakes from his mouth with his sleeve.

“Yes! Come on!” They abandoned the plate and Stiles let Scott lead him outside. 

The sun bore down on the plush green grass, and Stiles squinted his eyes, using one hand to shield his face from the brightness. 

“Over here. Everyone’s waiting.” Scott said, and the two of them bounded off towards the rest of Scott’s friends, all of whom were waiting with arms folded over their chests. 

“We are not playing lacrosse again. Jackson’s too bitchy.” Erica pouted. “Hey. Stiles!” 

They turned their heads in his direction. Erica smirked, while Jackson only glared as Stiles stumbled over to them, tripping over grass. 

“Hi. I got Stiles. Let’s play. What are we playing?” 

Lydia threw her hands up. “Well I’m not playing. You’re all too rough and I want to spend some time in the sun. It’s good for me.” 

She wondered off to a patch of grass and settled down, resting her hands behind her back to propel herself up while she basked in the sun. 

“We should play hide and seek.” A boy who Stiles quickly learned was called Liam, suggested. 

Jackson scoffed. “That game is for kids.” 

“Yeah, well I don’t want to be hit in the face with your lacrosse stick again, so I vote hide and seek.” Isaac pitched in, approvingly. Jackson glared at him, quite clearly betrayed, though Isaac just offered a lopsided grin and shrugged. 

“Yeah, I’m in for hide and seek. Use up some of that breakfast fuel.” 

“You didn’t even eat breakfast Erica. I don’t know how you’re not dead on your feet.” A large and, quite frankly, intimidating man disapproved. Erica merely ignored him, and turned to Stiles. 

“Do you want to play?” She asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes. He nodded eagerly, head bobbing up and down like he had been electrocuted. 

She flashed her pearly teeth at him in a grin. “Cool. Jackson, you can count, seeing as you’re being such a whiny bitch.” 

“What? That’s not fair! Screw you Erica.” 

“Just count, idiot. Up to 50, no peeking or I’ll kill you in your sleep.” 

Jackson had the nerve to glare at her, his characteristic eyebrows frowning in distaste, though he quickly agreed when she took a few menacing steps towards him. 

“Come on Stiles. Follow me. We’ll find you a good hiding spot.” 

Erica grabbed his hand and Stiles felt his stomach flip. Erica was really pretty. He really liked her as well. 

“Erica, you’re really pretty.” Stiles admitted, feeling his cheeks heat up in what he could only assume was an embarrassing blush. 

She laughed, “You’re too cute. But I’ve got my eyes on someone else.” 

“Oh.” Stiles deflated, and he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealously in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed the pain of being rejected, and cast his eyes ahead of them instead of staring unblinkingly at Erica. 

“Don’t worry about it. We go way back, and I love him.” 

Stiles wanted to correct her. He wasn’t upset that she thought that he thought she was single. He was upset because she didn’t love him. She thought he was just playing games with her, like when he and Allison used to play moms and dads, and the mom and the dad would have to kiss and how he and Allison would always screech in disgust afterwards. 

He missed Allison. 

He had never really gone too long without her, and while she had only been missing for a couple of hours, he noticed the lack of familiarity. The lack of comfort, of something that reminded him of his home. Of his Dad. 

“Hey. Chin up. Don’t look so down.” Erica teased. 

Stiles noticed they were hovering around the outskirts of a forest, and he glanced up at Erica to see her grinning. 

“He’ll never find you in there.” She promised, giving him and encouraging shove forwards. He stumbled, his foot snapping a twig. 

“Where are you going?” He asked nervously. 

“I can’t tell you, dummy. It’s meant to be a secret hiding place. If Jackson finds you, you’ll know where I am and take him to me.” 

“I wouldn’t.” 

She smirks at him. “Of course not. Now go on. Hide amongst the trees or whatever.” 

He glances wearily into the forest. It’s trees towering above him like skyscrapers, casting jagged shadows on the ground beneath his feet. He shivers, feeling both cold and uneasy, and a dangerous chill settles in his spine. And while he’s alone, and he was not expecting there to be loud party music, laughter or endless chatter, the dull silence frightened him, and he was enveloped in an eerie quiet. 

Until a twig snapped. 

His head darted round, eyes wide and searching, staring into the darkness of the forest while the tree tops blocked out any natural light. 

Another twig snapped, seeming to come from a different direction, from behind him, and he twisted round to get a better look, and Stiles swore he could see two faint red dots. Almost as if a luminous pair of blood red eyes were watching him from a distance. 

He turned around and immediately gasped when he came face to face with Derek.

“What are you doing in the forest?” The older man grumbled, his voice low and growly. 

“I-I was… I mean- I’m playing hide and seek.” Stiles squeaked, his eyes wide and frightened.

Derek’s shoulders seemed to sag slightly, and he release a quiet sigh. 

“Why were you hiding in here?” He asked.

“E-Erica. She told me this would be the best spot.” Stiles answered, his voice still a bit unusually high, though it was returning to its regular pitch. 

Derek chuckled dryly. “Of course. Fucking Erica Reyes. Don’t listen to her Stiles.”

“Why not?” 

“Because she doesn’t care about you. Or anyone else but herself for that matter. Just stay away from her.” 

“But she’s Scott’s friend.” 

“Yeah? Did Scott tell you about the time she set fire to his room?”

“No…” 

“Exactly. You don’t know everything, kid. Not at all. So, listen to me now, and stay away from her. Now come on. We’re leaving.” 

After digging deep within himself, Stiles seemed to retrieve some of his confidence. “Why should I trust you then? How do I know you’re not just telling me lies?” 

“You don’t.” 

“So why should I trust you?” 

“Because I’m telling the truth. Do with it what you must, I don’t care.” 

Stiles was quiet for a moment. “Okay.” He said slowly. “Well what else don’t I know? Are there any other secrets that might help me?” 

“No.” 

“But what about-”

“Stop prying. Come on. I’m taking you out of the forest and you better not come in here again. It’s not safe.” 

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked, now intrigued. 

“A lot of the people here… They’re not nice. I’m telling you now, because I’m not going to come and save your sorry ass if you don’t listen to me. Just keep to yourself and you’ll be fine.”

“But what about Scott? Is he dangerous?” 

Derek seemed to contemplate this for a minute, and Stiles took the opportunity to appreciate the curve of his jawline and the fine brushing of stubble that was growing on his chin. How trees cast his face with creepy shadows and brought out his green eyes. 

“No.” Derek answered after a moment of thought. “No. Scott’s not dangerous.” 

“What about you?” Stiles probed. “Derek, are you dangerous?” 

“Let’s just get out of here.” Derek snapped and grabbed Stiles forcibly by the top of his arm. He began to march in the direction of the hospital, dragging Stiles through the mud and broken twigs as the entered sunlight.

“Just do as I said. Okay?” It seemed strange to Stiles, because Derek was almost pleading, and it didn’t fit his character. It didn’t go with the mean, broody, dark and handsome look he sported. 

So Stiles nodded. He would listen to Derek. But there were ways to find loopholes. He would definitely find out who Derek was and why he was so dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAAAAY! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next one will be up soon!!! 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments because I love to hear from you all and I look forward to answering some of your thoughts!!! :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I have another chapter for you! 
> 
> I don't have much to say this time (yay). 
> 
> I was listening to the exorcist theme tune while writing this... I don't know why.......
> 
> ENJOY!!

“So Stiles. Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

“I’m good. I already told you that at the beginning.” 

“Can you describe it to me a bit more?” 

“I don’t understand why I need to. If I’m alright, why should I need a therapy session?” 

Stiles stared at the woman sitting adjacent to him, tapping her perfectly sculpted nails against the desk with irritation. Her gaze never flickered, staring him down as if she could see into his skull, and it made him feel a tad self-conscious. He didn’t want her prying into his brain. She didn’t seem like a nice person. 

She sighed, clearly growing more agitated by the minute. “I told you Stiles. Therapy sessions are compulsory for all our patients here. You will receive two a week, Mondays and Thursdays, until you leave, okay?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, disliking the rule, but eventually nodded. 

“So,” She said, after a moment of hesitation. “Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

Stiles eyes flickered back and forth, resting on her expressionless face for a few seconds before returning his gaze to his torn nails. Her gaze was unflinching, and her eyes were stony, and if Stiles took a guess, he would say she really didn’t care much about how he was feeling, she was just doing her job. After all, that was how she made her money. 

“As I said, I’m good.” He replied, lifting his head to meet her dark eyes. 

“Describe it to me.” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, confused at the question. 

“Tell me why you’re happy. Why you’re not. Tell me what makes you happy.” 

“Okay…” He paused, taking some time to think about the question. 

Why was he happy? 

Of course, he missed his Dad gravely. His Dad was the only person he had really had any sort of relationship with after the death of his mother when he was a child, and it hurt knowing that his dad had willingly subjected him to this hospital, sending him away. 

Allison had been missing for the past couple of days. Ever since their argument on the morning of the infamous game of hide and seek, she had been MIA, and Stiles hadn’t seen her dimples or chocolatey brown eyes anywhere. He hadn’t even heard the chime of her voice like he sometimes did if he was upset or in trouble. She had always been there offering advice and little quips, but now she was gone. 

Stiles had followed Derek’s orders. He had been avoiding Erica at all costs while trying to maintain his friendship with Scott. It was difficult, though he was managing, and while she had become a little bit suspicious, she hadn’t said a word to him. Only sending him a couple of meaningful glares or inquisitive looks out of the corner of his eye. 

So he shrugged. “The macaroni makes me happy.” 

She didn’t laugh. Her taught skin pulled tightly over her high cheekbones, accenting her angular face and making her gaze all the more piercing. She definitely did not find his little joke funny. 

“Look, we have an hour here, whether you like it or not, so you can either work with me here and let me do your job, or we can sit in silence for an hour because I have plenty of other work I could be doing. Stop wasting both our time.” She snapped. Stiles had the decency to blush, the colour flushing his cheeks and neck as he stared down at his hands bashfully. 

“Sorry.” He apologized. “I just… I mean I’ve never had a therapist. I don’t know what to do.” 

Morrell inhaled a sharp breath. “Just answer the questions then.” 

He nodded. 

“So Stiles. What makes you happy?” She repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“My Dad.” He replied.

“Were you upset when he left you here.” 

Stiles flashed a scowl at her, eyes stormy and annoyed. “He didn’t leave me.” He retorted venomously. “He’s trying to help me.” 

Morrell seemed unconcerned over his little outburst, and her gaze brushed down to her notebook to scribble something down quickly, before returning her attention to him. 

“And you’re okay with that?” She asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Good.”

There was a moment of tense silence between the two, an eerie awkwardness hanging in the air between them. 

“What about the people here? Do you like them?” She wondered. 

Stiles shrugged again, unsure of what to answer. His mind wandered to Scott, his adorable puppy expressions and bouncy energy that left him springing from wall to wall and running around in circles. Stiles thought, if he was a dog he would be constantly chasing his tail. 

Jackson obviously had a dislike for him, it was plainly obvious, and every time Stiles all but looked at the boy, he would get a glare so withering, it should really belong to a disapproving parent. Jackson stared at him as if he was a child, a five-year-old that had no regard whatsoever for rules and regulations. 

Isaac seemed nice enough, though they didn’t really speak. The curly blonde boy acknowledged Stiles with a tight smile and a nod of the head whenever he sat down, thought that was it. That was as far as their interactions ventured unless Scott dragged them both into conversation. 

Then there was Derek. 

Stiles didn’t really know where to start with Derek. The man was like a storm. He didn’t care much about anyone or anything that stood in his way as he passed, wreaking havoc on everything. Though he had helped Stiles out of the woods. He was nice to him then. Did that mean anything? Stiles so desperately wanted it to mean something. He liked Derek. Probably too much, and he was sure he was developing what Allison would call a ‘crush’ towards the god-like man. 

Instead of replaying all that information to Morrell, Stiles merely shrugged again. “Does anyone really like anyone? I think we all just put up with each other because we’re all each other have.” 

“I understand your point. Though it seems to me like you’ve made some friends, have you not?” 

“I’ve got Allison. I don’t need anyone else.” The words tasted like lies as they played on his lips. 

“Who is Allison?” Morrell asked curiously, her eyes flashing with an emotion that could only be described as excitement.

“Allison s my friend. We’ve been friends since I was small. She’s always been there for me, even if we argue or fall out. I still love her.” Stiles admitted, and though she wasn’t here, Stiles was almost certain that he could sense Allison’s presence. Like she was in the room listening to every word he was spewing. 

“But Allison isn’t here. You must miss her a lot.” 

“I do. But she needs time to herself I think. That’s probably why she left.” 

“I don’t understand.” Morrell frowned, the expression creasing her eyes and drawing her eyebrows down. 

Stiles smacked his lips together, unsure if he should be explaining his personal problems to this stranger, though it was a counselling session and Morrell had been deadly clear that everything said in this room would stay in this room and go nowhere else. 

“Allison left. We had an argument a few days ago about…” Stiles quietened. He didn’t want to tell her about his feelings towards Derek. Definitely not. “About something. She got angry at me and then left and I haven’t seen her since. She usually pops up a few days later and we say sorry and make up but I’m afraid that she might really be gone this time.” 

“I see.” Morrell pursed her lips, jotting down a few notes before looking up at Stiles and smiling slightly. “I think we’re done here. You can go back to your room now. Remember, 10 o’clock on Monday.” 

He nodded. “Okay.” 

“See you then, Stiles.” She said distractedly as she took time to sit and ponder over her notes. Stiles left with an awkward wave and a small, ‘bye’ before shutting the door behind him.

The hallway was quiet. A calming, sort of relaxed quiet that cleared your mind and allowed you to really think about things. Stiles was painfully aware of how alone he was. Up until now, he had managed to surround himself with people, and despite the fact he didn’t actually talk to many of them, it had been nice to have the company. 

But Allison was gone, his best friend. He had lost her, and right now, he was beginning to doubt she would ever come back. She had been with him for so long, always there if he needed her, no questions asked, and while she could be a bit snarky and annoying, she was still the sweet and caring friend that had looked after him for so long. 

He looked up, drawn from his thoughts as the sun disappeared from the window, casting the hallway in a dull shadowy light. 

He had no idea where he was. 

All the hallways looked identical here, each one matching with their dark oak floors and white walls, lights hanging off the ceiling either off, of illuminating the room with an artificial glow. 

“You look lost,” 

Stiles whipped around finding himself face to face with a middle-aged man, staring at him with two beady blue eyes. His eyes were aged with wrinkles that crinkled the corners of his eyes, and his eyebrows were knit together in a curious frown. He observed Stiles with an interested smile playing on his lips, and while his eyes remained questioning, years of wisdom were buried underneath. 

“I think I am.” Stiles admitted, a bit embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck gently, and eyed the stranger wearily. 

“I’ll help you.” The man offered, though it seemed more of an order. Stiles merely nodded, allowing the man to grab his forearm and lead him forwards. “I’m assuming you’d like to go to your room.” 

Stiles pondered it. He didn’t really want to share his room number with this man. He barely knew him, and while he seemed nice enough leading Stiles around the hospital with ease, there was something odd about him. Like a secret he didn’t want anyone to find out. 

“Uh, no, actually. I just want to go to the dining hall please.” He said. 

“Are you sure? I can easily take you to your room if you tell me the number.” The man smiled, and alarm bells blared shrilly in Stiles head. 

“No. No the dining room is fine.” He said snappily. “Thank you.” He added quietly. The man seemed to deflate a bit, as if he had realised there was no way he was going to get what he wanted, though after a short moment of hesitation, he grinned. 

“Okay. I’m Peter.” 

“Oh. I’m Stiles. Nice to meet you.” 

“And why are you here?” Peter questioned. 

“My Dad put me here.” Stile answered easily. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you too.” 

They walked in a companionable silence for a few minutes, Peter leading Stiles round corners and through doors as they passed rows of plain wooden doors. After what seemed like forever, they arrived at the dining hall, and Stiles immediately calmed at the sound of chatter, his heart returning to its normal speed after being on a high for several minutes. 

“Well, there you go Stiles.” Peter said, lifting his arm away from Stiles’. 

“Thank you.” Stiles replied, and he slowly turned around and looked for someone he knew. Anyone. 

Derek. 

Stiles sped up, aware of Peter’s eyes following his steps like a hawk. Stiles plopped down next to Derek, huffing out a sigh as he checked behind his shoulder to see if Peter was still there. 

Nope, the guy had just vanished. There was no trace of him at all. 

He turned back, releasing a relieved little chirp as he slouched against the wall Derek had occupied. With a smile, he glanced up, only to find Derek glaring at him. 

“Oh. Hi. Sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy you. I was just trying to get away from Peter. He helped me find my way to the dining hall and he seemed alright. You know, not nice but just… bearable, but he was a little bit creepy.” 

Derek’s face was pinched with concern, and for a brief few seconds, Stiles felt touched. Derek cared about him. 

“What did Peter say?” 

Well there goes that idea. 

Stiles shrugged. “Not much. He wanted to take me to my room, but I didn’t want to go there. So he took me here instead. I had therapy this morning and I got lost afterwards.” 

Derek’s eyes turned stony. “Stiles, don’t trust him.” 

Stiles was slightly taken aback. “What do you mean? I get he’s a bit creepy and all but…” 

“You can’t trust him. Stay away from him.”

“Hey. Hang on a minute, hold your horses, just wait, okay? You keep telling me I can’t trust people but you’re not giving me proper reasons. I can’t just avoid everyone you know. I mean, can I trust you?” Stiles rambled. 

Derek looked thoughtful for a moment, as if he were actually considering the idea that he might be untrustworthy, but eventually he turned to Stiles and met his eyes. “Yes. You can trust me.” 

“Okay…” Stiles started slowly. “I’m going to need more of an explanation.” 

Derek sighed, dragging a hand over his face exasperatedly. “Peter’s my uncle. He’s dangerous. Stay away from him.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes Clearly, that was the only explanation Derek was willing to offer. “Fine then. Don’t tell me. I’ll figure out eventually.” 

“You don’t want to.” Derek growled lowly. 

“Well you can’t hide everything from me.” 

“I can try.” 

“Are you flirting? That’s what Allison would call it. She told me we were flirting.” Stiles asked. 

“Who’s Allison.” 

“Nice dodge.” Stiles smiled. “Allison is my best friend.” 

“I thought you were friends with Scott.” 

“I am. Well not best friends, though now that Allison’s gone…” Stiles trailed off. 

“Why is she gone.” 

“We argued.” 

“About what?” 

Stiles pursed his lips and scrunched up his face slightly. “It was nothing. Stupid actually.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles finished lamely. They stayed quiet for a moment, each of them appreciating the quite hum of chatter in the dining room.

“Well I’m going back to my room.” Stiles announced, pushing himself up on his feet. Derek stared at him, is gaze unwavering as he watched Stiles wave and turn around. 

“Bye Derek.” 

“Bye Stiles.” 

Stiles frowned. Derek seemed to be warming up to him. Maybe he just felt guilty. Seeing as Stiles was the new kid, it was nice of him to help him out a bit. Though Stiles couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something behind the broodiness and constant frowny face. 

Why was everyone here keeping so many secrets?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it! I'm really enjoying writing this story! 
> 
> Please leave comments, constructive criticism and your thoughts, for me to read and answer! It always makes my day! 
> 
> Thanks : )


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles doesn’t see Derek for another two whole days. 

He’s wondering around outside, scuffing his shoes against damp green grass as he shuffles mindlessly along the perimeter of the forest. The silence of night envelops him in a giant hug, clasping around his body and blocking out everything else. Only the small chirps of birds are recognisable to him. 

It’s dusk, and the sky is painted vivid pinks and purples, the colours bleeding into each other and forming a giant watercolour painting on the blank canvas of the sky. The sun has just set, and the colours are dulling as a colder blue takes over. 

While it’s a chilly night, Stiles can’t bring himself to go and find a jacket. His naked arms shiver against the harsh winds, causing hard little goose bumps to rise upon his pale skin. He hugs his arms closer to his chest to protect him from the bleakness of the cold. 

Everyone else is inside, eating and chatting amongst each other. Scott had offered for Stiles to sit with him again, and bless Scott because he was really too sweet for his own good, though Stiles had declined. The thought of sitting with Scott and his friends made his stomach twist with guilt and depression because Scott had friends. 

It was petty. It was pathetic. God he knows how stupid he sounds. But Stiles couldn’t push down the green pang of jealousy that rose within him. The fact that Scott had friends who loved and cared about him made him want to cry because he simply didn’t. 

Allison was gone. She had left him and wasn’t going to come back. He’d given up hope. It had been days since he had last seen her dimpled smile and her sparking eyes. Days since they argued. It’s really playing with his positivity. 

Stiles stops short, noticing the dark silhouette of a figure in the distance. He squinted his eyes and realised they were facing the other way, dark hair ruffling ever so slightly in the wind. 

“Hello?” He called, trying to get their attention. His calls were ineffective. 

Sighing, he picked up his pace and began to journey towards them. It was too cold to be standing around outside. You’d have to be insane. 

Well, everyone here was. 

“Hello? Are you okay?” 

The figure pivoted, springing around with a bounce that seemed too animalistic. Stiles shuffled nervously on his feet, ignoring the anxiety building up and repeatedly punching his gut. 

“A-are you okay?” He stammered quietly as the figure began to approach with slow, but steady steps. 

It was a man. His hair had been tousled with the wind, and now sat in a mess atop his head. His whole body stood rigid and tense, and it looked as though he felt threatened by something. He was taller than Stiles, just by a couple of inches, and his torso was snug in a tight t-shirt which accentuated his lean muscles. His body was by far more muscular than Stiles’ own lanky and scrawny frame. He observed Stiles with the eyes of a predator, careful and calculating, ready for the pounce, and Stiles immediately felt off. Something was wrong. 

“I’m Stiles. Are you okay?” Stiles repeated. The man made no move to show Stiles he had acknowledged his question. Stiles uncertainly took a couple steps backwards, though he man seemed to mirror him, taking a couple forwards. 

Stiles swallowed, he could feel the tension rolling off this man in waves, clogging up the air. 

“Okay, well I’m just going to… yeah. See you,” Stiles waved lamely, batting his hand before teetering backwards some more. 

The man pounced, leaping on Stiles with such agility that could be compared to a wolf advancing upon prey. 

He snarled venomously, reaching out to scratch at Stiles with… 

Were those claws? 

Stiles panicked, his breathing coming in short gasps and he tried to weakly push the clawed hands away from his body. 

Oh god, oh god, oh god. He was going to die. 

Stiles fell backwards with the sheer force of another body smacking against his own, and he tried to cover the yelp that threatened to escape his mouth as his head hit the grass, bouncing off it painfully. The man had him pinned down, grabbing on to his shoulders and locking his chest with two strong legs. Stiles’ arms flailed wildly at his sides, lashing out and hitting the man in the side, though it seemed unsuccessful against the complete muscle. 

“Help!” He cried, his voice breaking with terror. “Help.” 

Stiles dared to glance up at the man, and his eyes widened fearfully as he took in the twisted features. Two glowing yellow eyes stared down at him, trapping his own cries for help as they scared the words from his throat. 

“You- What is this? What are you? HELP!” 

Stiles thrashed around some more, arms reaching into the grass and pushing at the mud to find something- anything that would help him defend himself. 

A rock. 

Stiles hand clasped around the rough object, tightening until the sharp edges dug into his hand and bled. 

With a yell of pure terror, he threw his arm up, putting as much force as he could muster into his swing until he heard the crack of the rock against a skull. 

Whether it was from sheer surprise, or anger, Stiles didn’t know, but the man momentarily loosened his grip as he tentatively reached up to finger the blood that was beginning to trickle down his temple. Stiles snatched his chance, and scrambled upwards, pushing the man off him until he was upright, before breaking into a run. 

Get back to the hospital. Find Scott. Find Derek. Find anyone. He needed to get back to the hospital. 

The echo of a howl sounded loud in his ear, and he was too scared to look round, fearing the worst. 

He pushed his legs as fast as they could go, feeling the burning sensation ripples through his muscles as he clung onto the speed he had claimed. Tears blurred his vision, and he could make out the fuzzy light of the hospital in the distance. 

It was too far. He wasn’t going to make it. 

“HELP!” He screeched, his throat raw as if someone had rubbed it repeatedly with sandpaper. “SCOTT! DEREK! HELP!” 

His head whipped around as a snarl filled his ears, and he suddenly found his legs being pulled from underneath him as the man’s body was once again pressed strongly against his own in a battle for power and dominance. 

Tears raced down his cheeks and his legs ached from running. The man snarled and spat in his face, saliva dripping from pointed teeth. 

He was going to die. 

Pointed claws dun into his wrists, pinning them down as they fanned around him. The man lowered his head, two fangs extending from his mouth as he opened his jaw and-

Was gone. 

Stiles blinked rapidly, fighting off a fresh wave of tears that threatened to fall down his cheeks. He scrambled into a sitting position, staring unblinkingly at the scene in front of him. 

Derek was growling and glowering at the man, a sharp pair of his own claws elongated with the promise of pain. He lunged at the other man, sending the two of them rolling down into the grass as Stiles sat all but ten feet away as they tore into each other. 

His hands were shaking as a violent tremble shook his body. Derek and the man were rolling on the ground, each one trying to get some leverage against the other as they clawed and slashed at each other’s faces. 

Derek was gaining the upper hand, and he slammed both fists into the other man’s chest, sending him into a fit of coughing and spluttering. Stiles watched worriedly as Derek then sat up, one hand on the man’s throat, holding him in a choke with the other battled with the man’s arms. 

“He’s mine.” Derek snarled, and Stiles gasped at how completely inhumane he sounded. Derek’s eyes flickered towards Stiles, obviously hearing the surprised little gasp and Stiles was shocked to see the electric blue orbs in place of what were usually two forest green eyes. 

Derek turned back to the man, claws digging into sweaty flesh as he strangled him until finally he was put out of his misery and Derek slashed at his throat. 

Blood spilled in a puddle on the grass, dripping from Derek’s claws and the man’s throat. It blended into to the darkness of the ground, and Stiles was suddenly very thankful for the night. 

“I-I- I don’t understand.” He stammered, eyes wide and frightened as Derek advanced upon him. “No. Please d-don’t. Don’t h-hurt me. Please.” His eyes shined with unshed tears as a violent sob wracked his body. 

Derek paused, and for a fleeting moment, Stiles saw the hurt and betrayal that flashed in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a hard gaze. 

Stiles whimpered as Derek stepped closer and crouched down, reaching a bloody hand forwards. 

“I won’t,” Derek promised. 

“W-What are you? Who was he? This is insane. I don’t want to be here anymore. I need to go home to my dad. Please. Derek please tell me what’s going on.” Stiles pleaded, tears now flowing freely down his pale cheeks. 

“I will. Promise.” Derek replied softly, the tone of voice surprising Stiles as it was such a contrast to his normal gruff one. Derek took both Stiles’ hands in his own and brought them to his face for inspection. He frowned as he noticed the moon-shaped claw marks on his wrists. 

“You’re hurt.” He observed, anger lacing his tone of voice. 

“I can’t really feel it.” Stiles sniffed, and he knew it was unconvincing. 

Derek exhaled, the air flying out of his nose in the attempt to calm himself. “Come on. We’ll get you patched up and then I’ll explain.” 

“Promise?” Stiles asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Derek nodded solemnly. “Of course.” 

Stiles stood up on two shaky feet, clinging to Derek for support. He wiped the tear tracks from his cheeks and hissed at the cold air as it hit his face. 

“Can you walk?” Derek asked. 

Stiles wobbled, biting his bottom lips as he stared at Derek from beneath long lashes. He shook his head, embarrassed. “No.” 

Derek grumbled, stalking closer to Stiles where he used his arms to cradle underneath Stiles’ legs and back while supporting his head with his chest. Stiles could feel the vibration of the quiet growly noises Derek was making through the thin fabric of his shirt, and it seemed to calm his rocketing heart. The steady pulse of steps was enough to lull Stiles to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Let me know!


End file.
